


It could have been great

by Tshirtliberator



Category: McLennon - Fandom, The Beatles
Genre: Alternate Universe, International Talk Like A Pirate Day, M/M, McLennon, The Beatles - Freeform, and yes i did get the idea from that one doctor who episode....y'know the one with van gogh, idk im tryin guys, jon - Freeform, like johns a painter, pol - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-10
Updated: 2018-12-28
Packaged: 2019-07-10 12:24:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15949292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tshirtliberator/pseuds/Tshirtliberator
Summary: As most of us know, John Lennon was one of the more recent great imaginaries, but very little was known about him. What we do know  is he was born in 1856 and did most of his work within 1878-1895 from the age of 22-39. Except unlike Da Vinci or Michelangelo he lived a much more different lifestyle, Lennon saw no success in his lifetime and accumulated very little wealth. Within the first half of the century his pieces have been found throughout the town of Amiens, France, it’s widely believed Lennon lived there during his adult life as records show his residency within the outskirts of the town where his home still stands. One of the main question presented are what was these newly discovered paintings doing so far away from his hometown?johns a painter in the 1880's ands gay for paul.....and yes i did get this idea from that one episode of dr who with Vincent van gogh...so uh if it seems familiar thats why





	1. Chapter 1

Breaking news from the Louvre, Paris France

Saturday october 27th, 2018

Four days ago on Tuesday October 23rd, A small plot of decaying property in southern France was seized from a landowner whose inability to pay for the land ended in property seizure. When officials stepped in to investigate the property they were met with a small wooden, rotting house practically falling apart, it looked to have been neglected for decades. The Land owner had received the property from a relative that left it in his will, when the officials investigated they found it suspicious that there was no apparent way to make it to the attic. After coming back a day later they were given approval to make a small hole in the roof of a storage closet to gain access to the attic. When Climbing up and looking around they were met with the sight of what they would soon learn to be millions of dollars worth of paintings, drawings and journals. After calling in experts and moving the objects to a secure location, the experts got to work. They later identified the property as unseen works by one of the world's most acclaimed artists John Lennon, when they contacted the Louvre museum in Paris where Lennon's works reside, the art Curators there immediately took the pieces into their collection where they later confirmed the pieces to be of Lennon. Soon forensic document examiners were called in to match the journals handwriting with captions on the preexisting works in the louvres custody, they confirmed that the journals are in fact, John Lennon's.  
As most of us know, John lennon was one of the more recent great imaginaries, but very little was known about him. What we do know is he was born in 1856 and did most of his work within 1878-1895 from the age of 22-39. Except unlike Da Vinci or Michelangelo he lived a much more different lifestyle, Lennon saw no success in his lifetime and accumulated very little wealth. Within the first half of the century his pieces have been found throughout the town of Amiens, France, it’s widely believed Lennon lived there during his adult life as records show his residency within the outskirts of the town where his home still stands. One of the main question presented are what was these newly discovered painting doing so far away from his hometown?  
It's even hard to tell what the looked like as he had no known family or self portraits, as said before he was very poor and widely considered mad, making it difficult to tell what his personal life was like and what the looked like.  
Although the mystery of this man will change soon, the journals as we're being told are dated as 1876-1895, meaning as they get read through and analyzed, for the first time in more than 100 years the public will get to know the man behind some of the world's most renowned works as “last dance” and “in my life”. One thing we do know as of now is that the journals were wrote in English not the elegant French that was usually captioned on the back of his paintings, thus meaning that the belief lennon was French being false, the journals clearly showing his preference to write in English over French.  
The world now waits eagerly to see these unseen paintings and journals found this week, the Louvre is planning on redoing the wing where lennon's pieces reside so it can fit these new discoveries, and exhibits on his early life and creative process, the wing should be re-opening sometime in December.  
\---------------------------------------  



	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> idk how good this'll be, i mean its something so there that

Oct 28th 2018, Paris France

Almost 50 pieces, all in single file line were walked along the bright hallways of the famed museum, all piled into a large room with about six rectangular tablet used for art restoration, two individuals standing in the center of all the chaos. Along with the art and scraps of paper containing priceless sketches, carts with the journals containing thousands of words piled high were being pushed into the secure room. They had already been scanned but were now being brought into the room for further examination, one of the two people Julie let her glowing eyes scan over the pieces, drool practically forming at the mouth.

Julie had been chosen to oversee the caretaking of the painting and works, having been working for years to get to where she was now. Countless night spent hunched over her desk scanning over her work, living on four cups of coffee a day and putting in steady 13 hours a day. It was a hard and stressful job, it clearly showing as her long raven hair pulled up tight in a bun was streaked with grey. Although that doesn't mean she wasn't beautiful or rigid , she pulled off ageing well, the few wrinkles that were on her face were overshadowed by her dazzling smile and glowing green eyes. The little makeup she wore was strategically placed and natural, her small specs balanced precariously on her nose as she looked down to her checklist to make sure every piece was being brought in with care. She normally had on dull coloured jeans and paired them with simple blouses, on her feet she always had on black ballet flats. Around her neck tho was a lanyard with a security pass on it, she had only recently acquired it, a select few had, they were being extra careful with the whole process. Each recipient of the pass going through the most aggressive background check imaginable, there could be no room for error.

The other person there, Sean was slightly younger, in and around his early 40’s. Now Sean didn't work at the museum, But he had been brought in from New York to analyze the journals and captions on the back of the paintings. He had previously been an independent forensic document examiner, and had been frequently employed by investigators and local police for his careful eye, his extensive knowledge about handwriting and his ability to form clear timelines. The museum had contacted him almost immediately after the objects were found to employ him for the next few months, Sean had been put in charge of the journals, of course though the museum had also given him access to sources to ensure the pieces weren't damaged during their careful examination. Some of those sources included historians, records and access to other pieces within the museums custody to better ensure accurate results. Sean had been standing there with his arms crossed looking around and making light hearted conversation with Julie, Sean was more of a man's man as they put it. Leather jacket over a guns n’ roses t shirt paired with faded blue jeans. Aviator sunglasses were set on his head over carefully styled short spiky brown hair, grey was beginning to form at his temples which the was no doubt upset over.

Of course there were others working on the project but these two were in charge.

Once the people were done hauling the works into the studio, Julie turned to Sean, her elegant french pulling him out of his daze.

“So, I suppose we get to work then?”

A smirk falling onto Seans mouth he replied

“I don't suppose this is going to be easy is it?”

Laughing she giggled “ no i'm guessing not”  
\-----------------

Sean at this point was sitting criss cross on one or the tables with the first journal in his lap looking down at it with wide eyes as the read, completely absorbed in the words half hazardly scratched on the worn browned pages. The Words, phrases and paragraphs caressed by time in those books, the leather slightly worn and flexible, it having been worn by the moisture from the air and the changing climate. 

Sean was currently about 30 pages in, a notepad to his left where the kept notes on John's life so far, the journal started in 1876, John had been 20 at this time. And as Sean quickly learned, he was a little shit. He had barely started and the could already get a good idea of the kind if person John was, the kind who caused trouble for his primary teachers, and was constantly harassing his aunt Mimi. 

The first page explained his situation and his life up until 20, it wasn't brief but it wasn't super in depth either. On the notepad next to Sean he had started a rough timeline, what he had so far was ‘born 1858 to Julia and Alfred lennon. His mother and father separated and shortly after he was taken to his aunt Mimi and uncle George. Early on in his life his uncle died, he had had a basic education and was encouraged to get into literature but he adamantly refused, he decided to become an artist shortly before he turned 16. Throughout his early life authoritative figures had tried to force him into the rigid british class system, in school he had been a very familiar face in the detention room.’ that had been a surprise to Sean actually, but also a big breakthru, the fact that John had been born and raised in Britain, shedding light on the mysterious man. In the journal it briefly mentions how the had to learn French in school, and how he hated the subject until now. John had started writing down everything because he had decided to move to Paris, that being that Paris had a thriving art movement compared to Liverpool. To get money for his journey John had been working down at the docks, and doing odd jobs here and there, just trying to find a way to get out.

Looking up from the book the glanced at Julie, the could clearly tell she was trying to casually sneak looks at him, her curiosity getting the better of her. She was currently taking one of the paintings off the wooden stretcher, on the bottom left corner hastily scratched on was its name “sortir de” roughly translated to “stepping out” and John’s signature.  
As she used a scalpel like tool to pry the tacs of the edges, flakes of dirt and grime fell onto the pearl white table coating it in thin layer of filth. Once she freed it from the rotting wood she flipped it over to inspect the linen paper for any places she had to repair, it was dated June 18th, 1889.  
The painting was of a women in all black hunched over on a bench, the colours were extremely pigmented and explosive but also sorrowful in a way that only Lennon could accomplish. Lennon had been very unpopular during his time, it was suspected he’d only sold about four of his painting for no more than a couple dollars, it was far cry from this day and age where one could be sold for millions. They were too imaginative for the time, had it been 60 years later John would have died a wealthy man.

Julie briefly looked back up to Seans eyes and caught him looking at her with an amused look on his face.

“What?” she inconspicuously said

“Oh come on I know you wanna hear about this stuff” Sean joked to her pointing down to the book still cradled in his lap like a precious newborn.

Pausing for a moment she pretended to think about it before gleefully saying in a sing song voice “well then let's hear this!” 

Over the past few days, Sean and Julie had become fast friends, which was nice considering they would be working together for a long period of time, it helped they were both very in love with their jobs. Passion was the key to their fast friendship, and of course they both found interest in this project, being that it was John Lennon he was one of the greats. One very well known thing about him was his unfortunate death in 1895, likely due to kidney failure from excessive drinking, it was horribly tragic being that the ws only 39 when he passed. It had always been heavily studied under a microscope to try and figure out what could have possessed the man to drink and experiment with opium as heavily as the did, they soon tho would find the answer with all the new information.

“Well he was British for starters”  
\-------------------------------


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uuhhh sorry if the french parts get bad, im relying heavily on google translate and the 3 months of french i took in grade 9

Liverpool, 1876

It was an overcast day, there was a awful chill to the wind dusting the populations cheeks and noses red as they fought to keep warm in their cheaply made Cotton jackets. The poor working class men and women scurried along the salt water reeking streets, their boots making loud clicking sound as they hurried along desperate to get out of the unforgiving chill and into the warmth of their houses or shops.  
The dock bells were ringing at all hours of the day it seemed, their monotone Melody’s echoing along the cobblestone narrow streets giving an Erie atmosphere to the city . Down at the docks is where many of the men worked, hauling crates off the ships to be brought to stores and boutiques. Their hands worn with calluses and splinters as evidence of their hard labor, backs bent with broad upper shoulders and down cast heads. A common sight was their spark-less eyes and grim faces, most had sagging jowls at thin down turned lips, no joy apparent on their dirt covered faces.

One figure sat alone staring off into the deep murky sea with dark eyes, when the upper class referred to the sea as a great beauty or something along those lines he couldn't help but laugh. What most regular folk saw in it was a source of income and a prison, you could use it to find fish and transport goods, maybe even a fortune if you were lucky enough but it also traped you there, it was incredibly pricey and difficult to get past the horizon. It was an almost impossible task to break out of the system and get out.

Beside him sat a half eaten sandwich, two pieces of cheap bread with a thin cut of Poor mans turkey, a rather insignificant part of the bird from an inexpensive place. His hands were stained with bright colours, paint stuck in his cuticles and under his nails most men scoffed at his hands calling them a " hopeful's hands, a difference from the normal scouser who had dirt, grime and soot covering their hands . He sat there for awhile longer, shoulder length auburn hair gently flowing in the breeze, tickling his neck before a single pair of footsteps was heard behind him, the souls on the shoes sounding worn out, a familiar song to many these days.

“Hey Johnny work stars back up in a couple mo’s” a thick scouse accent spoke out

Turning around John identified the person as his work pal Pete shotton, a well enough lad, a little Dim at times but a good laugh. He fit in quite well at the docks, he was very sturdily built and could haul quite the load. A real Liverpudlian he was, his girl was a lucky lady.

Checking his pocket watch John squinted for a moment before realizing that yes, lunch was almost over “ alright shotton, I’ll be down in a sec” 

“ alright mate dont take to long eh?”

“Piss off” he chuckled in a lighthearted matter

Looking at his friend for a moment with a smile on his face Pete took a step back before completely turning around and going down the steel steps to the harbour. 

Grabbing the last little bit of his lunch John scarfulled it down, and stood up for a moment pulling his cotton jacket tighter around his thin frame trying to block out the constant chill before jumping up and making his way after Pete.

 

Around 7 hours later he finally got off work and made it home, a long commute he had to make twice daily, he still lived with his aunt Mimi much to her dismay, but he was currently saving up to leave. He’d almost saved up enough to get out of there, by his estimates he'd be in France by early 78' , no more docks smelling of salt water, no more late night shifts doing odd jobs here and there and most of all no more people looking at him as if the was mad. He just needed to get away, away from the ridicule, it was hard enough chasing your dreams let alone adding on the zero support for his career, he knew he'd make it, the had to, had to prove them all wrong, show them he was meant for something other than a dockworker.

MImi's house was nice enough, it had been given to her and John's late uncle George by her father, it even had a name, Mendips. It was in a quiet neighborhood, where the teachers and doctors lived, good folk lined the streets in their nice houses, although hard times had befallen the city, Woolton seemed to be relatively untouched. John had had a good childhood compared to others, despite the fact that the had been given to Mimi after his parents separated, his mother wasn't capable of caring for him at that time. He had never seen his father nor mother again, Julia his mother still wrote to him from her home with her new husband in Ireland, but he still never saw her in person. She had a new batch of kids and was living a comfortable life in the rolling peaceful fields, her husband was quite wealthy and was quite a bit older than her, about 12 years older. He did business trading with america and overseeing a string of chains in Dublin, what he actually traded and sold would remain a Mystery to John, his mother always seemed hesitant to share that information in her letters. She lived so far away it was impossible to see her, and deep down John suspected that the journey was too much for her aging body to handle, and John on the other hand couldn't afford to spend any money on the trip there, so they relied on letters to hear from each other about once every 6 weeks. 

 

Growing up John had attend school as he was enrolled by his aunt, she had said she wanted a good future for him. At times he did feel guilty, in primary he showed promise as a poet or author, but he didn't want that, when he told Mimi of his intention to become an artist she scowled at told him to get his head out of the clouds. although he still lived in his childhood home and was lucky to have a roof over his head Mimi had cut him off as soon as he turned 18. John had been renting his old shoe box room from her and although the was paying for it the knew he had to get out soon, there was no way she was happy that her 20 year old nephew was still living at home. John knew she loved him but she was very uptight and posh, living off old, old money, she had different views than him and thought he was wasting his time, money and youth chasing his dreams off in Paris. One comment that had always stuck out to him was when she had said “John, your art is all fun and games but you'll never make a career off of it”, but John being John said “fuck off” and did exactly as she told him not to do. But the final choice came down to him, and he almost had enough to get out, maybe a year or two more of work and then could leave.

\----------------

Julie stood there for a short while before clearing her throat

“Thats…..I don't know what to say actually”

“He was certainly different than I expected…. I assumed...well I don't know what I thought, but I didn't expect him to be working at the docks” Sean tried to elaborate

“What do you mean?”

“well I just thought it would be something other than….. I don't know underdog-esque’, grew up middle class Y'know?” 

Squinting her eyes as if in thoughtful concentration Julie finally after a moment replied 

“Mmmm yes I suppose”

 

Getting up from his criss cross position on the table Sean walked over to some of the paintings to examine them, thru all the chaos he never actually got anytime to look at any of them except for occasional glances being that the was busy sorting out the journals. By now in the studio there were a couple of other people helping Julie with the painting speaking quiet frantic French to each other as they stood over pieces on tables with microscopic glasses on checking them for any sign of damage. But one thing Sean noticed was one section, put along one wall, it looked to be aout 14 paintings of varying sized, but all having one thing in common. A man. 

“Hey Julie what's up with this?”

Walking over Julie stood next to Sean looking down at the paintings 

“Ah yes we’ve been trying to keep these ones separate, mainly because they’re all of this man, I was going to ahh ask you if there was anything in the books about him…...and it's about time you noticed, you've been quite engrossed in your own little world”

“ heh, Do you mind if I take a look” the asked gesturing if he could take a closer look

“Oui go right ahead, but put on some gloves first” 

Reaching onto one of the tables he slipped on the latex gloves, Squatting down Sean started carefully moving some to the side, taking a look at them. They were truly breathtaking, they were nothing like anything else in his roster but still so obviously a Lennon. The colours, hues and shadows all fitting together like a puzzle, it helped that the subject of the paintings was also truly beautiful. Now Sean didn't swing that way but by god this man had it all, curves, round doe eyes, long eyelashes and plump lips. Brown almost black hair falling delicately into his round face, skin looking like pale porcelain with the hints of pink dusting his cheeks and nose giving him a innocent doll like appearance. One that particularly caught his eye was one titled “si je tombais”, the man was sitting in what appeared to be a swing hanging from a tree in backyard garden overlooking green fields covered in various colours of flowers. golden afternoon sun shining down from in between the leaves, casting perfect shadows along the mans bare shoulders where his loose shirt has exposed his skin. It was the picture perfect description of peace, bliss and warmth, the man looking so gentle but still maintaining a stoic expression, his face was also very androgynous making him a perfect subject, no wonder Lennon had so many pieces of this man Sean thought to himself. Tipping it over slightly he checked the back to spot the date, April 10th, 1882, standing up he made his way over to his notepad and wrote down the date and name so he could try and match it with one of the journals.

“I'll see what I can find Jules”

“Well it had better be something, i'm getting quite engrossed in this” she joked 

“Really? I would have never guessed” he sarcastically joked back earning a childish giggle from her


	4. Chapter 4

Oct 28th 2018 Paris.

That night Julie and Sean went separate ways after sifting thru the rest of the paintings nicknamed “the sunny patch”, why? Julie had no idea, one of the younger workers came up with it and it stuck. She had around 6 people working with her to take the utmost care with the pieces and even Sean has some with him, Jacques’ the man in charge of the whole operation did not want to many people, no matter how qualified they were, Security and whatnot. But still everyone went home later as one does, Julie to her husband and two kids and Sean to his rented out apartment downtown to call his wife all the way in Brooklyn. It was about 7:30 when Sean finally got home, he took a small detour to pick up some dinner, being that he was like a wrecking ball in the kitchen. Although he didn't like leaving the cooking to Marleene his wife, he couldn't help it, he was clueless and worked long irregular hours; the work at home was unbalanced and although it wasn't ideal it worked for them.

Marleen was a well enough women, born and raised in Brooklyn, married to Sean for almost 20 years, they had met after she ran over him with her vespa on her way to a English lecture. Sean ended up fine after the collision with the exceptions of a few scrapes and bruises but she made it up to him by treating him to a burger and banana milkshake. Two weeks later they were engaged. Marlene's parents almost had a heart attack when their 22 year old daughter came home with her rugged leather clad fiance’. That night Seans soon to be father in-law pulled him aside and said quote “ If you break her heart I'll fucking kill you” now that one line scared the living shit out of the young 25 year old Sean, wearing too big a jacket trying to look tough, But now looking back he realized that it was just her dad being the classic overprotective dad. A couple months later they had a wedding under 3,000 dollars at the local courthouse, it didn't need to be fancy or anything, it was still the best day of Sean's life, joining in holy matrimony to the woman he loved.

With Julie it was similar in certain aspects, her marriage to Claude Taillefer lasting much longer, leaning towards around 35 years, sharing three kids together, their oldest having been moved out for five months as she had left for uni. The other two just finishing up high school, their oldest studying music theory, their younger two just glad to see high school coming to an end, no sight of anything after as of the time being. Claude spent most of his time as a freelance urban planner, a fun way of saying he planed out public spaces like downton waiting pools and parks, places where business women and men roamed around at lunch. They had a simple life together, taking one day at a time mostly.

They had a very simple meeting, just bumping into each other on the streets, Julie Had just come out of a shop after picking up some things and had bumped into each other knocking all her recently bought items on the ground. They dated for a few years then finally tied the knot-they had their first child together shortly after the honeymoon; he was supportive of her and vise versa. He was there while she was ill with morning sickness, when she would fall asleep at her desk hovered over loose leafs of notes and when their teenagers would scream the familiar screech of profounities. His loving mantra of “C’est bon mon amour”, it was all she ever had to hear, those simple words could cure any illness it seemed. 

When she got home she was met with the warm aroma of a home cooked minestrone soup, the veranda doors letting the crisp autumn air flow into the living room, the setting sun casting a soft glow across the living room. She suspected her kids were in their rooms hunched over their phones or laptops snapchatting their lives away, at least her oldest Vera Had some sense to her, preferring to the snarl of Jagger instead of instagram or pinterest. She had every record any of the stones had ever had a part in, Julie was pretty sure she had read “life” by keith more than 30 times. But hey as long as she wasn't on the streets doing drugs or having a string of one night stands Julie was happy, instead she was hidden in her room destroying her eardrums with her collection of vinyls. 

Walking into the kitchen Julie poked her head around the corner, baby hairs starting to tray out of her bun framing her heart shaped face. Smiling to herself she snuck up behind Claude who was whistling a fast paced tune, his foot gently tapping along, his hips swaying a bit. Suddenly she attacked his sides shouting “boo” at him, tickling his sides like a crazy person. Almost instantly he jumped out of his skin, a high pitched scream escaping his mouth; eyes bulging out of his head as he tried to catch his breath staring at his wife with a wooden spoon clutched in his left hand.

“Julie, Tu m’as fait peur!” Claude spoke, still huffing a bit with a small smile etching onto his thin lips.

“Ah honey, im sorry love” she laughed switching to English, walking into his arms wrapping her arms around his waist and falling onto his embrace.

“hhhmmm …….accepted” he giggled, licking at the spoon still clutched in his hand.

Even after all this time he still had his looks, dirty blond hair falling softly across his forehead, deep green eyes filled with total contempt, he had a overall slim build. Of course as he got older the accumulated grey hairs and wrinkles, but what mattered most to Julie was how he loved and adored her no matter what, thru thick and thin and whatever happened to come their way. Julie just stood there looking at him, loving him and basking in his presence….and thinking about that soup-the soup was to die for.

Turning back around Claude continued stirring the dinner, his energy intoxicating Julie.

“So tell me about your day”  
\-------  
Liverpool, 1877

“John! Get down here now” the shrill voice of Mimi echoing up the stairs of the old victorian built home.

It was barely an appropriate time to be up at this ungodly hour, the sun haven't even daring to rise above the hazy smog covered horizon. That didn't mean that people weren't awake, of course there were folks from all walks of life up and about; mainly the lower class working folk. It was one of the rare days when John had the morning off, that didn't mean he didn't have to work, he just had the later shift that lasted into the night. 

John was enjoying being snug as a bug in his small twin bed, well it wasn't even a twin bed; it was whatever else was smaller than a twin, the mattress needing to be replaced. The fireplace having been lit around 30 minutes ago down the hall by the one servant that catered to Mimi's every wish, John of course had no access to her, he was only renting out the room, not renting the service. That rule even applied to the food, hence Johns poor man lunches, he had to provide for himself in absence of his access to Mimi's income. The things that needed to be kept cold were held in a wood box in the back garden, Liverpool generally had a chill these days so for the better half of the year they were fine being kept outside. Once the summer months set in though food was usually kept in the cellar, the stone walls doing a well enough job of preserving the items.

“John! I mustn't have to call for you a second time” came the shrill for the second time

Blinking blearily, his eyes stung from the lack of sleep and probable malnutrition. The wool duvet still enveloping him in a warm embrace, the warmth from the lit fireplaces giving a pleasant comfort to the tired man.  
Finally deciding the didnt want to be subjected to his Aunts shrieking John turned onto his back and stretched his aching body by bringing his arms above his head, he was stiff from not having enough room to move around thru the night. Muttering to himself “hhmm when I get outta ere’ m’getting a better bed”  
John gently moved the thick duvet off of his body and sat up, swinging his legs off the bed, his bare feet touched the hardwood floor. He sat there for a moment before stretching his stiff neck and standing up to the door, opening it the yelled back down to Mimi 

“Hol’ on a sec mim, let me change outta me nighties”

Closing the door John walked over to his closet, it wasn't very full and the clothes he did have were not very high class, made cheaply from cotton or wool and some pieces tearing at the seams; still they were better than his pale blue nightgown. He briefly shuffled through some articles of clothing before settling on a green button up shirt in relative good condition, a dark brown tweed coat and some simple trousers. Nothing too extravagant but good enough to not earn the scrutiny of his aunt.  
John slipped the nightgown over his head and off his body, letting it fall to the ground. In the corner of his tiny room stood a simple mirror about three feet tall, he caught a sight of his naked body in the mirror, under his gown the didn't wear briefs or anything-no one did anyways. Looking at his reflection the let his eyes take down his pale skin, his hairless chest and arms catching the light now coming into the room from the now emerging sun. He use to have a bit of fat on his body but after he started paying for most of his living expenses he dropped the little bit of extra weight he carried. That didn't bother him though, throughout school he had a problem with how the looked, he couldn't imagine anyone wanting to settle down with a squinty eyed aquiline nosed painter with a muffin top. Sadly though he really truly believed that he was fat or attractive and would fall into spouts of depression, starving himself from food for weeks. When he was 16 it got so bad he had almost died, he was so frail and boney the could barely walk or carry his own weight. Thankfully though Mimi was there for him and in one of her rare displays of emotion helped pull him out of it, staying by his bedside while the was drifting in an out of consciousness. She was harsh at times but deep down John knew she really loved him, all the shit she’d gone thru for him was evidence enough.

But all that was behind him now, he looked rather healthy at this point in his life, his upper body was more built from the manual labor, the wasn't on the same level as someone like Pete but was still rather sturdy. 

Still standing there the gazed at himself, the sun spots on his shoulders, hairless chest, the pubic hair near his genitals and his long legs. He still had those deep set issues concerning his body but it was getting better over time. Shaking himself out of it he grabbed the green shirt off the bed and got to work dressing himself, after the shirt came a clean pair of briefs, trousers, socks and his jacket. On his way out of the bedroom door the slipped on the pair of brown leather boots sitting up right, and with that the was at least semi ass presentable to see his Aunt.

Once downstairs he found his aunt sitting in the parlor with a morning cup of tea dressed in her lounging garb, elegant beads adorning the dark violet fabric a clear sign of her social status and wealth. John took the adjacent seat from her smoothing out the wrinkles in his trousers before starting 

“So dear old aunti what ‘ave I done to gain you ire this time?’’

This gained him a sour look from her face while she sipped slowly on her tea, she was using the good china today John noticed, not that he cared anyways.

Taking the cup away from her lips she replied “I hear from Mr Shotton that you'll be gone by years end, I must say I wish I could have heard this from you instead of the street urchin you surround yourself with”

Leaning back in the plush velvet cushion John said “ yes Mimi, ill be gone an outta yer hair by the end of the year I reckon, an I was gonna tell you but I work 14 hours a day, not much time in the day to talk y’know”

The clear disapproval of his poor English was evident on her face but she still continued “yes I suppose dear, but I do wish you were leaving for something more reliable, not some half baked plan in chase of a silly little dream“

Not caring if this started a fight he muttered  
“Yes well at least i'm following them unlike some who sit around in a old suffy house their whole life never knowing if they could have made it or not”

Looking across, Mimi sat there with a tight look upon the face, lips set in a firm line as she looked at him

“Yes well don't come crawling back to me, once you leave this house you’re not coming back, and don't misread me John; i'll still care for you but not support you”

“Yes im quite aware Mimi, now if you don't mind I believe I have somewhere else to be”

 

That somewhere else was a pub that seemed to be open at all hours of the day, it was a quiet place, Somber but no one asked questions, keeping their eyes down and back hunched as they drank from the watered down beer. John took a seat at the counter an ordered a drink, it wasn't completely empty at this time, there was a couple of downcast looking men around. The bartender said nothing as he handed over a tankard of the piss tasting drink, John quietly thanked him before indulging in a few drinks, keeping a close eye on the clock making sure the had enough time to make it to the docks. So dreading the day ahead of him John in his head thought the mantra he told himself almost daily “only 8 more months then I can get the hell out.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry its short, hopefully ill get to the gay stuff soon. if not smh

Liverpool, 1877

“I don't see why you have to leave as of now John, you can wait till spring comes round” came the uptight posh accent of Mimi, the servant to her side holding an umbrella above her so the falling specks of snow wouldn't land on her fur coat.

“If I don't now then I reckon I’ll loose my nerve” John responded, a few bags by his feet holding all his possessions, a knit scarf wrapped tightly around his neck and newsboy hat sitting snugly on his head as he shuffled on his feet with his hands shoved in his pockets. 

 

“Yes I suppose but it's terribly cold, what if you fall ill or hit an iceberg” she spoke, voice cracking slightly

“I highly doubt there's any icebergs in the English channel Mimi, i'll be fine it's only a couple days journey”

“It only takes a couple days to get pneumonia John”

Laughing a bit he replied “Mimi how many times do I have to tell you i'll be fine, if I were you i'd be worrying about when I get there”

“oh believe me I am”

Sighing John said “Mimi i'll be fine, but look at the bright side, m’finally moving out, gettin outta yer hair”

“You know you can't stop me from worrying, Your my only nephew John”

The loud horn of the boat behind them rung clear as day startling them both, a man shouting “all aboard!” the dock bells ringing in the distance as the snow continued to fall around the busy Liverpudlians who were scurrying about. The Boat behind them taking John across the channel being prepared to leave; the ramps having been lowered long ago as people one by one walked up them in single file line as if walking into a funeral reception or into church. Further down there were more spacious ramps where the upper class boarded to the nicer levels, where they had servants and posh rooms at their disposal.

‘“Well I guess that's my Que Mimi, ill uh write to ya latter” John said

before picking up his bags and scurrying off, for the first time ever he leaned in and hugged her, and more importantly she didn't pull back or pull away scolding him about wrinkling her clothes. 

While hugging her pecked her cheek finishing “bye Mimi” his cold frozen lips leaving a chill on her wrinkled rouge blushed cheek.

Pulling back John picked up his few bags, hauling them over his shoulder and turned around , making a brisk pace over to the near ramp where people were boarding so he wouldn't be late, John briefly showed his boarding pass to the man standing there checking passes; earning a nod of approval from the man John made his way up the ramp. When he got to the top the turned around briefly to take his hat off and wave it to Mimi who was standing by the carriage, imitating the woman that would take off their bonnets and wave them to their husbands. From the distance John could make out the faint smile etching on her lips, then finally she was lead into the carriage by the servant accompanying her, and with that John placed the hat back on his head and finally stepped into the vessel with a small frown already feeling homesick.

 

 

 

It had been almost two days since boarding, the homesickness already embedding itself deep within himself, but he kept reminding himself this was for the best, he really needed a change and this was something he’d always wanted since learning french in school. The cold wind carrying an icy chill as he stood on the deck, leaning on the rail looking out into the English channel, it wouldn't be long before they docked in France, it had been about five days, ending the next morning. Looking around there didn't seem to be anyone else on the deck except for the few workers on the night shift, it was well below 0 degrees and the few that were awake were bundled up with cotton and wool jumpers trying to cut out the chill. John especially was not fond of the cold, so he was bundled in several jumpers a hat, scarf and thin gloves with the fingertips cut off. Every once in a while he brought his hands up and cupped them around his mouth, breathing into them to help warm them. 

The sun was due to rise over the horizon in a few hours and he supposed he should head back down into his bunk to catch a few hours of sleep, it was hard when it was his first time on a boat, and as he learned quickly he gets horribly sea sick; So far most of his time on this trip was spent hunched over the side of the boat or over a bucket emptying his stomach. It was if he had to admit quite embarrassing, the experienced seaman looking at him with amused smiles at the sight of a fresh faced man vomiting his breakfast up. Alas though it was only a few more hours, hopefully spent sleeping John mused.

Pushing himself of the cold railing John sauntered to the doors leading below the deck to the bunks pulling the collar of his coat up as a strong wind picked up, on the way down he ran into some of the cooks working on breakfast already, he could smell the faint smell of a beef stew simmering in the kitchen. They had specifically chosen a beef based stew because it was easier to preserve, he wasn't 100% sure but if he remembered correctly they just had to salt it or something. The upper class folk who were also aboard got a higher quality breakfast with fresh vegetables and dairy, John was just traveling with a cheap ticket and bunk so he wouldn't have that luxury, just a bowl of salted beef and the stock. He wasn't complaining or anything, he didn't need the luxury and fancy soups on a 6 day journey, it was after all temporary he'd much rather spend his hard earned money on something permanent. 

Finally he made it down to the bunks, he was sharing his room with two other people, their beds were slightly too small for his long legs and the floorboards were more rough than the higher class floors. The two other men he shared his room with were fine enough lads, working class and bulky from the labor, Neil and Ivan their names were. They unlike John though were fast asleep, this ship was like a mini vacation to them; it would be over soon as they were going to France specifically for manual work. That seemed familiar these days, it had been harder for a lot of people recently, John didn't know the specifics of why they were going to France, just the gist.

Walking across the rough floor John kicked off his worn down shoes, with his left foot he nudged them under his bed so no one could steal them or trip on them. Shrugging his layers off as he sat on the thin bed for a moment just staring at the shabby walls not thinking as of the moment how it's probably never been washed, he kind of dazed off for a moment sitting on that bed, realizing just how exhausted he was, shoulders weighing him down as if they were made from lead in the factories that polluted the foggy skies. Rubbing his eyelids with his calloused hands he yawned and stretched his neck, hearing a faint pop from the joints.

Laying down the almost immediately fell asleep, head propped ever so slightly on the thin fleece filled pillow. Eyelids heavy, lulling him into a soft slumber.

 

 

The next morning he woke up to the more present smell of the stew that was being cooked up hours before, based on guessing John guessed it was about 8:30 in the morning, they'd be docking in the harbor soon. So laying there for a moment he let his eyes adjust to the small window letting the sunlight poor in casting a cold light into the small room, there was a fine small line of land seen in the distance, presumably the coastline. The linen blanket wrapped around his frame felt like steel wool on his exposed skin, a far cry from his warm duvet back at Mendips, the fireplace down the hallway in the posh house was also a missed luxury. In the room John could see his breath in front of his face, his face was exposed to the chill causing a light dusting of pink to his cheeks and nose. Finally getting the gumption to get up John picked up his newsboy hat off the ground along with his two thick wool coats and knit scarf, reaching down under the bed John grabbed the leather worn down shoes and slipped them onto his dirty feet. Reaching up to his head the quickly tried to style it out of the rats nest it was currently in, as of today it had been almost 2 weeks since he'd had a bath and by guessing he'd say it would be at least another week or two before he could get access to one.

After dressing John made his way down the hallways and stairs to the kitchen for some quick breaky, in the kitchen the smells were even more intense then before, it was incredibly pleasant; the aroma wafting through the floorboards to the other levels. Waiting in the lineup of the other men John grabbed one of the copper bowls and paid the 3 pence, greeting the man serving the bowls with a tired grunt.

 

After eating the sun had risen even more, the ship now docking in the small harbor town of Dunkirk or as the french spelled it Dunkerque, from this vantage point the town didn't look to terribly different than Liverpool, maybe smaller but still busy. But all together the town seemed more light, different to the Englishmen

About an hour later the ship had finally docked at the port, shortly after breaky John had gone back down to his room to get his bags and prepare for mainland, there was a new youthful bounce to his step as he skipped off the ramp lowered onto the Dunkirk harbor; his bags seeming to be weightless as John showed no sign of being slowed down by the cumbersome sacks. When he finally got further away from the old vessel he spun in a circle with his arms spread out wide, a look of total happiness painted on his face. This earned a few odd looks from the natives scurrying about. But John didn't care, he was one step closer to his goal.


	6. Chapter 6

January 1878, France p>

Men women and children scurrying about, men driving carts full of hay and other goods making loud sounds along the cobblestone streets; the horses hooves stomping, the sounds echoing off the nearby buildings. Most busy with their own business while the kids chased each other playing tag, shouting and hollering at each other completely oblivious the the happenings of the adult world. It was in this case similar to Liverpool, but still different, for one it was actually bright out, the sun now at its highest peak shining down onto the town, giving a pleasant warmth despite it still being bone chillingly cold. The working class adults were rather cold in spirit, broken from the hard days work, but that was to be expected, that was everywhere nowadays. Hands worn from labour or eyes sunken from waking up at the crack of dawn, something John was glad the was leaving behind after far too much time lurking around carrying boxes from the ships around.

John noticed all of this while he made his way further into the town, wanting to get moving as soon as possible to his destination, walking through the crowds of people holding his bags close to his chest. Small shops lined the streets, most carrying household goods like bread or pots, but then some with more materialistic things like jewelry or books. John wanting to not go hungry on the road stepped aside to one of the more promising looking stores with the bread and foods. The smell of sea water wafting through Dunkirk, almost exactly like home,he found it funny how all of the little things he noticed from day to day reminded him of home, whether it be a mother scolding her child of something or as simple as a shade of blue matching a street sign back home.

Looking up onto the sign he pushed the heavy wooden door open, a small silver bell ringing above his head as he walked in, a few tables holding things from bread to spuds and carrots crammed into the store. There were a few people in there, prodomanityl women hauling their children around them for their airends, much to the annoyance of the kids. Walking around for a moment John setted on the simple stuff like the salted pork and bread, he also added in a few potatoes just for substance asswell, potatoes were popular everywhere being that they were cheap and hardy.

The elderly women at the counter was nice enough, she called him “son” and spoke English to an extent making that encounter more desirable than those before. She told him about how her son in law was about his age, standing at that counter he basically heard the whole life story, all about her three daughters, older husband, her brothers and the business. She was quite chatty taking more time than normal to talk to John, much to the annoyance of the line now building up behind him. so finally he had to keep things moving along and asked for the total of his things, albeit a little Rudley. He could hear Mimi scolding him already “manners John!” after he Paid he bid her farewell and continued making it through the seaside town 

\----  
It was now about noon when John finally made it out of the city, bags now slung over his shoulder as he made his way down the wide dirt path used to link towns and villages; it would only be a week or two until he would reach the next towns Amiens, he did pack a few blankets and protection for when he’d inevitably have to sleep on the side of the road and set up camp. While John did have money he was much more comfortable just going it by foot instead of carriage because that was quite expensive for the amount of travel he was doing, he would rather save that money for a house or food. 

It was very quiet as John walked, his bags weighing heavily on his shoulders probably leaving red marks on his pale skin, the only sound being the ones of nature, the wind blowing over the frozen landscape, birds flying and tweeting, with the exception being Johns soft humming to himself, an old song he’d once heard in church. It was actually by now warmer than expected, the journey was of course going to be harder than normal being that it was winter but the prices for getting across the channel were generally cheaper during the colder months. Not many people were keen on traveling in winter months, but that didnt stop John. 

A few more hours of walking lead to the sun starting to set, so he pulled himself off the road to some small brush and set up some fires to keep him warm throughout the night. It was to be a hard journey but it was worth it in the end, and he was too far already to give up or go back home, he’d never hear the end of it from Mimi if he did.

\--------

Paris, 2018

It had been about two weeks since Julie,Sean and the others started working. They were still working on restoring the recovered paintings and preserving them, Sean however had gone through most of the journals and sketches accompanying them, he promptly gave the sketches to Julie and her team, almost all were placed in the sunny patch batch, they were almost all of the man. By mid november they were expected to gather all the information and present it to the public and everyone else, and so far Sean had found and read a lot, just going over one mans life over the span of a decade. this morning he was going to show Julie what he'd found the previous evening, it was the good stuff too and no doubt when the media would latch onto when they got wind of it.

Sean waited for her in the studio, his notes and the books scattered about the table that he had quiky claimed as his own, bits of paper, notepads and pens scattered about the table. Sean had grabbed a styrofoam cup of coffee and was sitting going over his notes, he had started to put together his full report along with the few men and women he had helping him along, much like a police report really, formal words replacing his usual casual tone of voice and painstakingly bureaucratic. The sunny patch paintings had quickly been overpiliing in the corner where they were sitting, all of the painting had finally been gone through and as it turned out most were put into that category, and of course there were hundreds of quick doodles or sketches of the man hidden deep within the books, some of him sleeping under a thick duvet others of him playing with a big fluffy english sheepdog, even some as simple as him sitting at a table, head on hand looking bored. Yet still he had an angelic soft face with big round doe eyes, dark hair curling around by his ears and falling softly in front of his eyes.

It was another 15 minutes before Julie finally came into the studio, greeting Sean good morning as she did

“Aahh bonjour Sean, how are you this fine morning?”

“I'm doing quite well Julie,birds are out skies are blue aaaAANnnd last night was pretty good considering i've finally gotten to the juicy stuff in these” he said while patting one book resting on the table

At this she perked up even more, which was surprising because she was impossibly cheery all the time ”oh juicy? What kind of Juicy?”

Wiggling his eyebrows the replied “his love life”

“Oohh do tell mon amie”

Jumping up from his spot on th wood stool he walked over to one of the tables holding a painting currently being restored, Julie hovering over his shoulder

“He fucked that man” 

“Oh my god Sean! So vulgar” Julie said laughing and turning away from him for a moment, “you could have said that nicer” of course she had this reaction, one usually did not hear such language such early in the morning, much like you generally didn't drink a glass of scotch this early.

“What do you want me to do? John would bend him over and take him to frisco town” Sean added with a cheeky smile wiggling his eyebrows.

“SEAN!stop” she shouted laughing hard by now, that one phrase really getting to her.

After she calmed down Sean started up again “alright but he was y’know, the kids name was paul if your interested”

“Here one moment tell me more while I get started working”

Sean waited patiently while she gathered up her things watching her impatiently as she gathered up tools and started setting them up on the table next to a painting. This one was one of the newer ones lennon had painted, the newer ones as they observed were more darker in colour and theme. Still lost of colour but more cooler tones and a noticeable lack of sunshine or happiness. Because of this they stopped classifying the sunny patch as being bright in colour with alot of sunshine to classifying them by the man in them. 

Once she was down she turned to Sean “alright let's here about his love life then” 

Sean now satisfied, put on a jokingly serious face as the crossed one leg over the other and dramatically opened the first journal that really got to the good stuff and started reading.

“ February 10th, 1878 Amiens France

I should have left town by now, but of course i've gone and gotten myself distracted with uh….business. By business i mean Paul mccartney, damn bastard...getting stuck in me head like this, i otta have a stern talking with him. Him and his darn delectable long legs, big doe eyes and almost black hair...of course i haven't told him this yet, id imagine it would be disturbing to hear from a drunkard idiot, and to be honest how often does a barmaid really hear such compliments?  
he doesn't like being called a barmaid, doesn't stop me tho does it? The month i've known him has been good though, he's a real keeper i recon…..probably a queer, that works out well for me though, although i will say i reckon i'll have to decide whether or not im leaving or staying…... i think Macca is worth staying… “

It was a short entry but still gave a lot away, personality, mental state of the time, and paul. At the bottom was a space reserved for a half fished doodle of paul, it was Sean admitted quit adorable really. He'd already read through most of it, all together it was quite interesting really along the lines of a tragic poem, how John would put up a barrier to everyone including himself, everyone except Paul really. In his writing it fascinated him how in his younger years the was stoic and put on the rough dock worker façad, but as he grew older and learned more about himself the became more open, albeit even if it was only to himself in his journals.

When Sean looked back up to Julie he saw that she had gone back over to the paintings, pulling one at a time forward to look at the backs hoping that she may have missed something, after going through maybe 4 she asked 

“Can you read more? You've given me taste I now crave”  
———-

Amiens, France 1878 /p>

Night had fallen on the quiet town, a man walking down the street lighting the street lanterns was one of the few people out cloaked in his dark cape blocking out the chill of night, said chill being a deterrent for anyone wanting to go out. It was quite late though John mused to himself as he wandered down the cobblestone street to a inn by one of the bars. Of course though it was near a bar and was part of a smaller one so there would be drunk men and women hanging around that area, they wouldn’t mind the cold John suspected.

he had gotten into the town only about half an hour ago, he’d briefly sat on a bench to rest since he’d finally made it after nights of sleep on the ground in the middle of nowhere, keeping warm with fires and thin blankets. It wasn’t the best experience but what can you expect when you're trying to make it across a country. Amiens was nice though, the streets nicely lined with cobblestone; house and stores lining the streets in rather good condition, it was also really fascinating and beautiful how the river separated the town right down the middle, very scenic and humble.

It took only a few more minutes of walking before John made it to the inn after getting up from his bench, a humble looking place, warm light spilling out the foggy glass windows into the street. The inn also as well had a smaller bar on the first floor as many did, although because it wasn’t as big as the one just down the street only about twenty people tops were ever there drinking. Of course all this information was from locals he had asked, and as it turned out it would have been a good idea to touch up on his French as he wasn’t as good as he remembered. 

Opening the oak doors was an easy task John supposed seeing as it was only wood, but once walking in he was met with the smell of wood, smoke and wines of all sorts. There was quite a few of men and women as he suspected In the lower part, navigating his way through the crowd of people was an easy task, nothing like weaving in and out of Liverpool when work got out. He walked up to the counter pushed up against the far wall, a women with a powdery face and revealing dress man-ing the book and room keys. When he got up there he couldn’t help but notice her shameless flirtation attempts, her fluttering eyelashes and over pronounced syllables being an obvious giveaway.

“Uhhh bonsoir mon amour” John said slightly stumbling over the words 

“Bonsoir monsieur, comment puis-je vous aider?” She replied back, her French much better and elegant, but the sultry act still on

“Oh um avez-vous des….chambres disponibles?” 

“Bein sûr” she replied reaching under the desk and pulling out a keg with a faded number on it “ici, c'est l'un des meilleurs que nous avons ... en promotion pour vous” she said, pulling the book over from where it was off to the side

Thanking her John quickly signed it with his chicken scratch. Looking at her he gave a friendly smile as thank you, he walked away from the desk to the stairs beside it to the upper floors where the rooms where. As it looked she didn’t lie, the room wasn’t half bad. A nice enough bed with some pieces of furniture off to the side, it wasn’t five stars by any means but still….not too shabby, and hey she gave it to him with a discount so who’s to blame him for taking it.

John walked over to the couch and placed his bags on it, almost immediately after he started stripping himself of his grimy clothes, jacket, trousers and other dirty articles of clothing started falling off his aching body. A welcoming feeling really, even more welcoming when he fell into the bed bouncing slightly, it felt a lot like his one back at mendips, speaking of mendips, he supposed he should get on writing a letter to Mimi, knowing her she’s worrying her ass off about him, might as well put her mind to rest. It has been about a month since he’d last seen or heard from here, and after all she’s sacrificed and done for him, it was important he put her mind at ease, and his own the supposed as well, she was getting up there in age and he did love her dearly. 

John laid there on the bed for a few moment on his back before rolling onto his side to look out the window to his left. It was dark out. Intensely dark, the street lights doing little to none to illuminate the streets, in fact the windows of the shops and homes let out more light. It was just different than Liverpool, and he was lonely he supposed, use to being around friends and family at almost all hours of the day. Well by friends he mean the people who stayed near him despite the fact he was a right bastard, a lot of people couldn’t deal with that on a day to day basis and John didn’t blame them.

It took awhile for him to fall asleep, it when the did it was one of the best ones he’d had in a long while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Uhhh bonsoir mon amour--- good evening love  
> 2\. Bonsoir monsieur, comment puis-je vous aider?---Good evening sir, how can I help you?  
> 3\. Oh um avez-vous des….chambres disponibles?”---Oh um do you have ... rooms available? "  
> 4\. Bein sûr----Of course"  
> 5\. ici, c'est l'un des meilleurs que nous avons ... en promotion pour vous----here, its on of the best we have...on discount for you
> 
>  
> 
> idk if like anyone is interested in this, but hopefully by the next chapter i get to actual good stuff


	7. Chapter 7

January 25th, 1878 Amiens France

 

It couldn't have been later than 9:00 that night, the sun had set hours ago, being that it was winter the days were shorter, and added on it was a crisp cold night, breath showing in front of John's face as he trekked through the town. The street lanterns lit and casting a minuscule amount of light onto the streets, looking more like props in a play than actual functioning things to benefit daily life. John pulled his scarf and coat tighter around his body, nuzzling his nose into the wool wrapped around his neck to warm his frozen red nose. Despite the fact John wore a scarf, two coats and gloves cut of at the fingertips he still felt the late January cold, it had snowed two days ago so the snow on the road was well packed down by the residents footsteps and carriages, In some spots the snow had started to turn brown from dirt and scum by the side of the road, but most of it was still white reflecting the small amount of light from the street lamps turning it to more of a brighter hue 

Walking down the road he made a right turn to the first door on the street, right down from the inn John had been staying at for about two weeks. From outside the building he could hear the merry chanting of men inside, glasses clinking together and the distinct sound of a piano playing fast paced tunes. So Paul was on the piano again he mused to himself as he hauled open the heavy oak door, kicking the snow off his shoes he stood at the door for a moment making sure he wasn't tracking in any filth or wetness not wanting to cause a mess for Mary later on. Looking around he was met with the familiar sight that he'd been becoming more accustomed too the more the came here, even after coming here the first time John loved it, hence why he’s come back so often. He liked the people and the atmosphere, probably due to it being a family run bar with a good selection of ale, beer, and all kinds of wines.

John took a seat at the bar, sitting on the stool he turned his back to the edge and watched his friend Paul play, one of the two the son of the bars owners Jim and Mary. Jim was usually stationed behind the bar dealing with the patrons and sending out the drinks to the barmaids dressed quite scampily while Mary only ever came down from the home above the bar once a week due to her poor health, which was a shame because she was a wonderfully kind person. Their two sons helped along with the family business, from running errands around town to man-ing the bar and running drinks out to the people sitting at the cramped tables. Paul was the one John knew best though, striking up a close friendship after John started coming here regularity, Paul who was still playing away at the piano, fingers dancing elegantly across the ivory keys making the music equivalent of pure gold come from that old worn out upright piano. 

After watching him for a while Paul finally got up to keep working, having spent his break playing for the patrons. When Paul walked around to the bar the made eye contact with John, smile breaking out on his face instantly, he shuffled behind a women named Frieda who was filling in for Mike, Paul's brother who was out running some late night errands. 

“Ah hello there sir what can I do for you?” Paul spoke  
His fluency in English being like a calm in the storm for him, a reminder of home. Paul’s mother had moved from Bath in England to France when she was a young woman, meaning Paul and Mike grew up bilingual speaking both French and English, an obvious feat from the Slight accent on his tongue.

“The finest top shelf wine” John replied mocking the posh accent he grew up hearing

“Oh yes of course good sir, only the best for a gentleman of your high standards, shall the new exotic taste from northern Italy “ lavatory waste” suit your taste”

“Oh pardon me you must have misheard me, said top shelf good sir”

Laughing Paul dropped the accent “we both know you can't afford that Johnny”

“Umm excuse me well neither can you yeh’ wanker’”

Reaching down under the counter Paul pulled up a lager and filed it with the golden liquid in a barrel behind him “tut tut I never said I could mon amie”

Setting the full lager in front of John Paul said “ well Johnny it seems you were only here yesterday”

Taking a large gulp John replied “hhm seems all the shite youve been taking from that loon at the clinic’s been fuckin with yer memory son"

"John it was a figure of speech, your here everyday, m’even starting to think you enjoy my company”

Scoffing John replied “brah! I just like the wine selection here”

“ yeah?, well i'm glad the cheapest shit you'll ever find on this side of the river is good enough for your elegant posh standards” Paul laughed back, his laugh carrying out through the bar while the poured four lagers for one of the barmaids to carry out to the rowdy crowd

“Oh of course only the best for someone of my standard” John piped back, voice slightly slurred from the half empty glass sitting in front of him.

“Oh so I don't suppose i'll be getting a hefty tip eh?” Paul said leaning over with his head resting on his hand, elbow resting on counter.

“I wouldn't count on it love”

It was quiet between the two for a few moments, Paul slacking off by hanging around John earning the ire from the other hardworking people in the bar.

In this quiet moment John though back to that moment the first came here, it was the day after his first stay in Amiens. He had stumbled his way groggily out of his room in the inn after sleeping for a solid 12 hours which seemed it would mess up his sleep schedule to an irreparable extent. Walking down the streets he was mainly lead by his nose towards the smells of typical bar food, the was dreadfully hungry, what he found was the bar that he was originally going to stop at at some point. Through the windows he could see and hear thunderous shouts and hollers coming from people of all walks of life, bearded men, loose women and everyone In between.

Stepping Into he bar was even louder than outside, weaving in and out of drunk people John made it to the bar where stools sat, taking and empty seat it was only a moment before one of the bartenders came over. A young thin liteh man with dark almost ebony hair, falling in tuffs around his pale porcelain heart shaped face. But what john found most striking was the long thick eyelashes that made his large hazel doe eyes look even rounder and more beautiful, accompanied by his small button nose and large plump lips.

“que puis-je vous obtenir?” he said

“ oh uh n'a pas d'importance” John replied stumbling over his words.

The man laughed for a moment then said back “doesn’t matter eh? Adventurous you are”

“Oh thank god you speak English” John laughed out, appreciation and relife oozing out of his voice

“Yeah and lucky for me, now I don’t have toy hear your god awful accent” the man joked before pausing and sticking his and out “m’Paul McCartney”

Grabbing his hand John replied “ nice to meet ya mate, m’John

“Likewise”

 

They had talked all night after that, laughs and jokes, connections and many beers were exchanged. Paul talking about everything under the sun from the colour blue to some weird drug he gets from a shady “doctor” which John found immensely funny. At some point in the night John was introduced to Paul's mother Mary who John loved, she was kind and had a thick British accent.To sum up the night john would say the spent a days worth of pay on beer wine and other types of alcohols and distracted Paul from getting any real work done which most likely annoyed the crap out of his aging father Jim. inevitably though John had to leave as it was nearing the time when the bar closed,as he was leaving the was still cracking as many jokes as possible to get Paul to smile.

Stumbling in a drunken haze down the cobblestone streets, head and shoulders heavy, legs feeling like lead, Through all this though John was happy, he’d spent the night with an amazing person…. it was a good night.

The moon hung low as a thick field of clouds could be seen blowing in over the horizon illuminated by the strong silver glow of the moon. Still an ever present breeze blowing in through the stone streets, soft whistling sounds coming from it blowing in and out of cobble cracks, a weird mood compared the the environment the just spent the last 6 hours in, the calm of the night being light years away from Pauls bar. 

 

 

In John’s hotel room he sat on the bed looking at the blank canvas leaned up against the wall, fresh paint sitting next to it just waiting to be used.The sat thee for a moment longer planing out in his head what was going to go on the canvas, planning it out in his head since john rarely ever sketched it out with a pencil first. So now standing in front of the canvas John got to work, swiftly throwing as mush colour as possible onto the clean pristine surface, slowly but assuredly forming the image of Paul sitting at the old upright piano in the corner of the room, the one that at some point during the night he started playing.

Once John finished the stood back looking at the drying paint.

“Well i'm fucked”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> que puis-je vous obtenir?” ------what can i get you?
> 
> “ oh uh n'a pas d'importance”------Oh uh doesnt matter"


End file.
